


Ugly Morning

by sp201120122013



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp201120122013/pseuds/sp201120122013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pit stops are the pits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ugly Morning

"This isn't our all the time, right?" Poison asked, stretching himself up off the mattress on the floor and wincing as he cracked his neck. There was dust still clinging to his body from the journey to this base yesterday, and a second layer stuck from the dirt floor of the shelter. His eyes burned with it too, blinking as he stared at Pony's back, waiting for a response.

"It's a "most of the time," Pony said without turning, tugging his tights higher past his hips and letting them snap back into place. Poison suddenly became more self aware of how he was, still stretched out and vulnerable on the floor. His clothes were in a pile by the mattress, underwear included, and the blanket was only halfway covering him. He reached for it, tugging it up hesitantly to his chest. 

"Uh-uh, none of that."

Poison looked up, startled by the harsh, businesslike tone Pony was taking now compared to how he had spoken last night. Last night, when the two of them had finished a successful drug raid, jamming their pockets full of lumpy plastic bags before leaping into the back flatbed of a truck. It was only Poison's third week out running like this, and his second drug raid. Pony had cooed at him, rewarding him with a bottle of alcohol he had produced from somewhere as they toasted each other before taking to the bed, clothes ripped off and Poison's cock cared for by the incredible Pony. He had never experienced anything like this in the city, never experienced a man, never experienced being serviced like this, but every time Poison tagged along and 'helped out" on a mission, it always came back to this.

Crunching back pills and moonshine had taken Poison sky high last night, moaning and writhing as Pony pinned him down, but now he was very much grounded, gawking up at Pony as he shivered half naked on the floor. "None of…"

"No hiding. You don't hide your body out here in the desert. You let people see. Especially me," Pony continued, striding over to Poison as he shrugged his leather jacket onto his shoulders, crouching down to the bed and running a finger under Poison's jawline. "You're my little apprentice. And soon, you're going to be finding out more regarding that."

Pony finished his sentence by ripping down Poison's blanket, snapping at him to get dressed fast and to be ready to leave. With that, he strode off through one of the doors Poison hadn't noticed on his bender the night before and was gone. Poison sighed shakily, blinking through the pounding headache behind his eyes as he reached for his underwear, his socks, pulling them on as carefully and purposefully as he had done with his former Exterminator uniform--what these clothes had once been a part of, after all. His pants were just the same military uniform from before, the bulletproof vest an especially convenient carry over from his old life, and both had been covered in spray paint, dip dyed, and of course ran through the dirt and grime of three weeks out of the city now. The color, the aesthetic, even the fit had been changed significantly as the already skinny Poison continued to drop weight. He had been relying on little but scraps and cigarettes, looking forward to alcohol more than real meals. Alcohol burned going down, but it had resulted in vomit fewer times than the gruel he'd sampled so far. 

His pants seemed to be hanging looser than before, he thought as he ticked his belt notch a little tighter than he had been doing before. Seeing the outline of his dick through his underpants was making him uncomfortable, and even through his thicker pants he could still sense it, still feel a foul taste for whatever reason. He felt filthy when he thought about what he had done last night, shuddering more when he looked down and saw a glimpse of a hickey on his chest. Poison didn't know what the hell he was doing. Resisting, sure, fighting, sure, but here he was sliding from mattress to backseat to public, if he thought about last week, with a man. He didn't even know where the baby brother he had followed with the excuse of "protecting" was right now. And god knows he didn't want Kobra knowing where he was. He hadn't yet breached his newfound sexuality with Kobra. It wasn't something his brother needed to know, he kept telling himself. It just made him feel more and more ashamed when it compounded, though.

Snapping the last clasp of his vest together, Poison ran a hand through his greasy hair, hoping to just slightly improve it. It was still growing out of his old buzz cut, starting to stick out at weird angles and flop down in even more inconvenient places. He walked towards the door Pony had gone through, trying to keep his footsteps quiet as he peeked his head through the entryway and squinted in the darkness to try and make out Pony's figure. The dark didn't lend itself well to sight (were they underground?), but he could hear well enough.

"So, does this cover the night, or will you be needing anything else?" he heard Pony say, the warm voice he'd grown used to in his first almost-month out in the desert tinged with an unfamiliar chill, low and almost slimy in pitch. 

"What do you have to offer? I'm tired of your tricks, they're old. You're getting old, Pony, you should realize that. Your show is almost over," an unfamiliar voice sneered.

"Well, I've got--"

"Your new boyfriend? It's obvious that kid hasn't turned a trick in his life yet. Don't insult me."

Poison's breath caught in his throat. Tricks? Was that referring to the fact that he hadn't sold off any drugs yet? It couldn't be the other meaning to it, that was reserved for women. Only women in Battery City ever did anything like that. That's what the district just outside the city was for, that's why those women had different cards to stamp when they went between borders.

"Not interested in a--"

"And don't try and sell him as a virgin. Not after you spent the night with him, I'm not that stupid."

"Oh, but you know a boy that's only had one is always better than a boy that's had ten…"

"Pony. Cut the bullshit. You're in debt, and I'm not accepting you pushing your problems onto other people. Get out. Don't come back until you're able to compensate in more than just drugs and sex. I want caps next time. Caps, or the next time I'll see you you'll have a different hole than just the two you spew shit out of now. Leave."

Poison drew back from the door, the nausea building up in him despite his stomach being empty. That wasn't why Pony had taken him under his wing, it couldn't be. That wasn't the circumstances they had met under, it wasn't what Kobra had told him, it had nothing to do with anything he had experienced so far. 

I should've stayed in the city, he thought fleetingly, right before Pony stepped through the doorway again and stood before him, giving him an eyeing up and down that hadn't seemed nearly as similar before. Poison was suddenly acutely aware of how short he was, how his exterminator work had been done with guns and paperwork, how his muscles were still underdeveloped and how woozy he was from a hangover that hadn't hit quite that hard until now.

"You ready to go?" Pony asked.

Poison could do nothing but nod in response.


End file.
